


Muscle Memory

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [6]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: And Bucky's confident looks, Blade kink, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton-centric, Clint has a thing for weapons, Clint has it bad, Clint is a simp, Competence Kink, Fluff and Smut, Knife Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, WinterHawk Bingo, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27447367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: What goes from a bad mission to a semi-okay evening, Clint finds himself suddenly finding a new kink he's into. It involves Bucky, Bucky's confident boyish look, and the weapons he's taking apart in his hand.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winterhawk Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891774
Kudos: 53
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Muscle Memory

**Author's Note:**

> For Winterhawk Bingo: Competence Kink
> 
> Also, please be warned there is a knife kink in this just in case ya'll didn't see the tag.

He was not welcomed here, honestly. He should just go back to his floor. Why did he think he would be welcomed on Bucky’s floor right now? And honestly, he didn’t even blame Bucky and this thick atmosphere between them.

“I don’t blame you,” Bucky finally said, his back still to Clint as he sat on the couch. “I know you were just looking out for me.” 

Didn’t mean his brooding silence didn’t hurt much less. Still, the fact he was talking to him made Clint think it was okay to take a few steps closer. He rounded the couch, not surprised he found the familiar rifle sitting on the coffee table.

Clint didn’t know what to say, he felt like he had to say  _ something.  _ The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. He should say  _ something  _ but what? He’s already made this situation worst than what it was.

“What I am trying to say,” the brunette continued, much to Clint’s relief, “is thank you for being there for me.”

Oh. That’s not what he expected to hear. He expected to be yelled at, blamed for being the ridiculously over concerned boyfriend.

“You’d do the same for me,” he finally spoke, weighing the words carefully. “In fact, you have. I didn’t want you to make the same mistake that I did.”

_ There  _ was that trademark smirk Barnes smile, the one that made his knees weak. It was aided by the fact his shortly cropped hair strands fell on his forehead. It gave him this loveable boyish look that caused Clint’s heart to clench.

“You? Make mistakes?” Bucky laughed and the rest of the tension fell from Clint’s shoulders, even if the atmosphere around them still felt tense.

“Time to time.” 

Stepping around the couch, Clint hovered for a moment before pressing a long kiss to Bucky’s lips. He could feel the once-assassin melting against him. Pulling away, Bucky’s metal fingers traced around his jawline.

“Do you mind...leaving me alone? Just for tonight, not that I don’t love you, Clint, I just…”

“Want to be alone,” Clint finished, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Course. Look…” Now back to the awkwardness as he pulled back and kicked at the table, making the rifle clatter slightly. “This is just shit luck, alright? That Hydra Operative that you tried to go after? He was there to taunt you, he wanted a reaction. It would’ve...fucked up so much work that I know Sharon and Hill personally have risked their lives to do.”

“I know.” There was that gruff soldier he’d come to love, the grunt leaving his lips like it took all his energy to do so. “I  _ know,  _ okay? He was put in public for me to recognize and to react. It doesn’t mean I’m any more proud of my reactions. Again, Clint, thank you but…”

“Right, leave you alone. I’m gonna use your toilet and get you the leftovers heated up so you can eat.”

“Just wash your hands in between.”

By the time Clint had their leftover lasagna heated up in a plastic bowl, he was well over an hour overdue for leaving Bucky’s apartment. He couldn’t help himself from finding small, petty excuses to stay. Bucky might be in a brooding mood, but he didn’t want to leave the man alone. Today had been hard on him and brought back many memories but he had to trust that his boyfriend would be okay.

Setting the plate on the small table on the side of the couch, he finally caught sight of what the rile left on the table was for. Bucky’s hands were moving at a steady, solid rate to disassemble the weapon. The man’s silver eyes were focused on the blank TV screen, not even watching his hands.

Muscle memory. A memory that had been integrated into him by Hydra when he had been their puppet for years. Habits you did not let go of. Clint knew the comfort that came with assembling his arrows by hand, the feel of the smooth shafts and metal under his fingertips. Packing the nets into compressed chambers, even the more dangerous aspect of carefully holding the acid-dipped arrows and wrapped them in their special casing. It was a way for him to relax, to let his mind wander and for once, not to think.

The same came from Bucky disassembling and reassembling his rifle. This one had long been out of commission as hinted by the rust along the barrel and the long-missing clip. He was sure Bucky had long hidden the clip from himself, but he could never be quite sure. The rifle, not that Clint was an expert here, he thought it close as possible to the one Hydra had made him use. 

Muscle memory helped perfect the mind, or so some fortune cookie told him.

Clint’s eyes couldn’t quite pull away as he watched the last of the parts clatter to the table. Bucky’s breathing had evened out, his eyes finally falling to see what his hands had done. In a blink, he was already picking up some mysterious part that made no sense to the blonde before finding its sibling and clicking it into place. It was muscle memory to just put it together.

Bucky did this with such precision, such perfection without one simple slip up, even if it would show he was human. These just made him seem more robot than man.

And the worst part of it, the worst part of Clint’s mind, he found the perfect, the perfect precision, and calmness in this man’s actions incredibly arousing.

His breath hitched as the last of the rifle clicked firmly into place and Bucky’s fingers spun it around as if it was a chopstick between his fingers. The worst [best] part was the fact he seemed satisfied with it and set it down, turning to look back at Clint with this cloyingly smug look on his face.

“Are…” he started before Clint made a sound in the back of his throat and booked it out of there.

What the fuck. What the fuck?! What the fuck was that? He’s seen Bucky take apart weapons with his hands hundreds of times before. He’s seen those hands take apart nuclear weapons one day and the next tenderly hold an infant while the mother tries to sleep for a few hours. He’s personally been on the end of those hands and let them choke him while they’re in bed. He’s even let one been inside of him. He’s had them gently stroke his hair while he cried. 

So what in the hell was this about? Why in the hell did he find Bucky so goddamn attractive when it came to tearing that weapon apart?

Clint breathed heavily out of his nose as he squeezed his hard cock in hand. He had never gotten so hard so fast before. It almost made him dizzy and he was sure he might’ve passed out in the elevator had he been in a worst state. And explaining to the new doctors in med bay about why he was hard and why he passed out was not how he wanted to spend his evening.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Bucky. Bucky taking apart the rifle, the parts pitter-pattering to the table with little regard to where they landed. He didn’t even seem phased when a part almost rolled off. Or how he put it back together without even looking to see where a piece landed. He just seemed to know. He seemed to handle it all efficiently and quickly.

Muscle memory.

And all it did was make his cock throb. That sure look in Bucky’s eyes, that confident look.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, _ it got him off more than Clint could handle.

He grabbed at the fleshlight he’d store under the bed, sighing in relief as he eased it over his cock. Holding the plastic in one hand and bracing himself on his bed with the other, Clint rose his hips and thrusts inside of the chamber. It’s perfectly tight and after a few minutes, it’s warm too. It’s inviting and if he closes his eyes and watches Bucky pull apart the rifle again, it almost feels like someone is sucking him off. Letting him use their throat as his cum dumpster.

Bucky was too goddamn good. Those hands, that sure look as he took apart the rifle. Fuck, did he want to be the rifle? Maybe. Maybe he just wanted Bucky to take the stress out of today’s failed mission on him. 

Or maybe he just loved that goddamn look in his boyfriend’s eyes. Whatever it was, not that he had enough time or want to pick apart this problem, he didn’t want this pleasure to stop.

When Bucky, the Bucky in his head turned to look at him, that confident look shining and etched onto his face, Clint lost it. The orgasm blossoming just in the pit of his stomach before exploding in a ray of warmth, tensing every muscle in his body. He threw his head back into the pillow and didn’t bother to stifle the guttural moan escaping his lips. His hips erratically thrust inside of the toy, gasping and moaning as his balls pulled tight and pleasure burned through his body. His nerves sung with beauty, making tears prick his eyes.

_ Fuck,  _ it’s been so long since he’d touch himself, that the orgasm drained every last bit of energy he had. Fuck, maybe he did want Bucky to pull him apart with that confident look in his eyes. Maybe he should tell his boyfriend about this newfound kink.

After he slept, of course.

* * *

“Clint pay the fuck attention!”

Bucky’s voice slapped him harder than the actual hand to the chest. Clint found himself upside down on the wrestling mat, thankful that the thing had some padding. He grunted as his head bounced slightly, hand scrambling out to push his aids back in.

“I am,” he groaned, not bothering to sit up and staring up at his boyfriend dressed in black gym shorts and a gray, sweat-soaked shirt. He could see the dark material stain under his arms and across his chest. In Bucky’s hand was a blunt blade that Tony had made him. It had the feel and look of one of Bucky’s knives but the blade had no edge and could just annoyingly poke you rather than hurt you.

“No, you’re not, or else you wouldn’t be on the floor. The hell has gotten into you? You’re not focused. Did you forget your meds?”

Clint’s eyes rolled as he pushed Bucky’s foot off of his chest and heaved himself up. “No, I didn’t,  _ mother hen. _ I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s been three days since the incident of him masturbating about Bucky’s look while he played with the rifle. He hadn’t seen much of Bucky in those few days, being dragged out with Natasha and Sharon to do clean up on some small mission in Manhattan. Bucky had been dragged out by Steve to get him out of the house and ‘enjoy the sunshine.’

Every night since then, he fucked into that goddamn fleshlight like an animal on a frenzy, wishing Bucky was here to see what the hell he’d resorted him to.

“Then what is it?” The brunette insisted, flipping the knife nonchalantly in his hand. Goddamnit, Clint hated how hot he looked with that knife. “If you’re still worried about how I reacted, I’m fine. Steve and I agreed that it was rash but understandable and no damage was done. Are you still upset that I-”

“No!” The word escaped in a soft tone, not wanting Bucky to put any blame of that situation on him. The man was human, no matter how much Tony teased him for being part cyborg. Humans had natural reactions of emotions, especially ones who’d gone through what Bucky had. “Nothing, can we continue please?”

His eyes weren’t on Bucky this time, it was on the knife. The knife that was dancing between his fingers, flipping over the index, just for his ring finger to curl over the hilt in time to twist it around his wrist. He was too far distracted to see the leg going for his hips and found himself being kicked backward.

Clint had enough momentum to allow the kick to send him sprawling backward, using the fall to flip himself back and perhaps, in his way, being a show-off. That smirk on Bucky’s full lips went straight to his crotch, not in too good of a shape with the same black gym shorts. 

This time, he forced himself to focus on the man, avoiding every punch or kick thrown his way. He managed one blow towards the man’s chest, another in his face to get him a few inches away from his own. He was still wary of the knife that fluttered from hand to hand like it was a butterfly instead of a dangerous blade. 

One sharp jab towards the man’s kidney’s sent the once assassin sprawling backward, Clint using the advantage he saw to mount him and straddle his hips. His own pressing into the brunette’s, hands holding his wrists above him. The knife was a few inches from their grasps.

“See? I’m fine,” Clint insisted, rolling his eyes when he felt Bucky’s hips rise to meet his own. “You’re not getting out of this by enticing me with sex, Buck. Admit I got you this time so we can call it.”

“I’m not trying to entice you with sex, Barton. I think I have my blade for that one.”

Clint found himself suddenly on his backside and Bucky above him, the cold blade pressed into his throat and the man with a coy smile on his lips. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled, letting his head thump back. “Fine. You win. Now get off of me.”

“I told you, you’re too distracted about something. Not happening until you tell me what.” 

At least Bucky had pulled the blade back and sat up, but he purposely had sat his full weight onto his hips, grounding his own against Clint’s. The pressure was just enough to make the blonde groan under his breath, eyes squeezing shut.

When he opened them, Bucky was still staring at him, awaiting an answer. The knife was flipping through his fingers and that look was back on his face. That confident,  _ I’m better than you because I can do fancy moves  _ look. Fuck, Clint hated it.

No, he loved it. He absolutely loved it and his body reacted accordingly.

“Are you hard?” Bucky laughed, letting the knife drop in favor of running his hand over the bulge in the shorts. Clint’s hitched breath and the twitching member in his hand told him yes. “All you had to say was you were horny, Clint.”

“I’m not! I mean I was...I…” The blonde huffed and wiggled his hips to buck the man off to no avail. Bucky has proved time and time again that he could and would ride Clint like a bull if he so wanted to. 

“C’mon, spit it out, Barton. Unless you do want Steve and Thor to see you like this? They should be arriving in...less than an hour.”

“I don’t’ know!” Clint finally spat out with a groan. “I don’t know what it is, but I got off the other night when you were playing with your rifle. I-I got hard...and distracted again watching you play with your knife just now. You get this...this confident look. This...fuck, smoldering look that I can’t help but love and it gets me going every goddamn time.”

He expected Bucky to laugh, to throw his head back, chest out sort of laugh that he does when something is really funny. Instead, he looked curiously down at Clint, leaning over to brace his hands on either side of the blonde’s head.

“You, Clint Barton are the hottest guy I have ever met.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes,” Bucky snickered, dipping his head down to press a soft, long kiss to the blonde’s lips. He smirked as he pulled back, patting those flushed cheeks. “Because I am going to spend the rest of our sparring time riding your cock with my knife to your throat until you cum. Got it?”

He could’ve just came in his shorts right there from those very words, instead, he managed to squeak something out of confirmation. That was enough for Bucky it seems, the brunette standing up long enough to kick his shorts and boxers off. Clint’s followed, Bucky smirking when his eight inched, uncut cock sprung from where it was trapped under the fabric. 

“Do you have lube?” Clint grunted, in between sharp breaths that followed Bucky taking the cold blade and tracing the underside of his cock. He gasped when the dull tip just poked at his balls. 

“Of course, what am I, some monster?”

Taking his cock and blade in hand, Bucky gripped the base of Clint’s cock to stroke him with the blade firmly pressed on the underside of his cock. He made sure his palm pressed the cool steel into him, letting Clint feel how much longer he was than this simple weapon. Already, the blonde’s cheeks were starting to flush. This  _ really  _ got him off, didn’t it?

Fuck, they’d have to do this more often. 

Flipping the blade in hand while making eye contact, he dragged it over the man’s leaking head. Pre drooled from the broad, mushroom-shaped head, Bucky swiping it with the blade just to lick it off. He swore Clint just about came from the sight of that. His beautiful angel looked so at peace with a knife next to his cock. 

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll stop teasing. We don’t got long.” 

Grabbing at the lube from his kicked shorts, Bucky added just enough cold droplets to make Clint shiver and slick his length up. The knife was pressed to the man’s throat as he staddled him, adjusting his hips and weight so he was just over Clint’s throbbing cock. Fuck, his own was threatening to just cum from the feel of the heat alone.

“Bucky,” Clint whined, swallowing hard enough to make the blade bulge slightly. “Please, you’re torturing me here.”

“That’s the idea, darling. You lost the match, so I get to torture you for a bit.” 

Bucky shouldn’t be allowed to say such arousing things with a goddamn knife against his throat. Or look so damn cocky when he said it. Any reply Clint had was lost the second he felt Bucky’s tight rim press against his sensitive head.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, starting to reach down to hold himself steady, but Bucky was faster and caught his hand. He was about to complain until he was let go of, just for Bucky to grip his cock tightly and ease himself just past his ring of muscle.  _ “Oh shit.”  _

Bucky joined in with the moan, head falling back as he sunk himself the rest of the way down, feeling satisfyingly full and sated with this throbbing cock inside of him. His own responded with spurting pre-cum across Clint’s shirt, soaking into the fabric. “Fuck, Clint. You feel so goddamn good. Each time feels like the first.”

“That’s-because-serum,” Clint gritted out, barely able to get his mind to focus on the fact Bucky liked to talk during sex. “Move. Please.”

“Nu-uh.” If anything, Bucky  _ loved  _ to have some control here. He pressed the blade back into Clint’s bobbing adam’s apple, hard enough to force Clint’s head to dip back slightly and have it dig into his throat.  _ “You  _ move. Now. Fuck me like you do your silly toy.”

That’s all that Clint needed. He braced his legs open, gaining purchase on the slick mats. He let Bucky pick himself up a little before he thrust his hips into the man’s ass. His moan echoed around the gym, the spark of pleasure coursing through his spine. He slammed his hips hard enough to make a sound, to watch Bucky’s eyes glaze over with warmth and pleasure as he allowed his ass to be used for his own pleasure.

Gritting his teeth, Clint’s hands gripped at the mattress, nails digging into the padding as he set a brutal pace. He bounced Bucky on his lap, slamming his hips over and over into the man’s thick ass. The brunette’s purple-tipped cock bounced with each thrust, threatening to spray him with cum at any second. Bucky’s moans were nearly as loud as he was, his hands slamming him back into the mats. He gripped at Clint’s shirt and ripped the fabric off of him, moving his hips in time with Clint’s. 

Clint had seen how Bucky was with a toy, having been once tied up while Bucky used a dildo in front of him. He’d seen how Bucky would ride him if he got all the time in the world, slow and careful, savoring every moment, but tonight wasn’t about savoring. It was about a brutal pace with a confident boyfriend who wanted to ride  _ his  _ boyfriend like the bull he was.

“Come on, Clint, come on,” the man growled, clenching the knife hard. He rested it over Clint’s chest, using the tip to trace white-lines into his bare chest. The knife dug lightly into his sensitive nipples, causing Clint’s hips to thrust harder than before.

“That is, Clint. That’s it. You love this, don’t you? You love my knife. You love being under me and letting me use you. Letting you fuck me while I hold a dangerous weapon to your throat. Is that it? You’re a kinky guy, ain’t you? No one knows too, just you and me.”

He bent down, digging the tip just enough into the soft spot on Clint’s chest at the same time as he kissed him. Clint’s moans were muffled as he slammed his hips even harder at those teasing words, his ass hitting the mats hard enough to make a sound. Not nearly as loud as the skin-meeting-skin sound or the feel of his balls bouncing along.

“Gonna take you upstairs,” Bucky hissed in Clint’s ear, “and fuck the living daylights out of you. Gonna make you watch me use my knife on you. Leave pretty, little marks over your body. Make you hold the knife to your cock while I fuck you like the slut you are. Look at that look on your face, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Bu-Cl-please.” It was all Clint got out, between gritted teeth as the knife was snatched away from his chest and replaced with his hands again to gain purchase.

His balls were aching, that taunt, fire burning in his belly. Bucky was edging him on, daring him to cum without permission. It was working too, all he wanted to do was paint this man’s walls with his cum. Let him know what he’s been missing, what he’s been doing to him for the past three days with that image in his head. 

His vision was starting to turn black on the edges, reminding himself to breathe while the orgasm threatened to burst. He didn’t even hear Bucky telling him to cum, his body just reacted like so. His cock ached, throbbing dangerously inside of Bucky’s ass, filling him with every last drop of cum that was inside of his balls.

His stomach ached and tensed, his ears roaring. He hadn’t even been aware he was screaming his boyfriend’s name like a prayer on his tongue. Or how his breath was coming in sobbing gasps from the ecstasy fill that filled his veins. Even as he came down from this roaring high and his vision and hearing slowly came back down to him, he couldn’t stop sobbing. 

It felt that good.

If Bucky was good at talking him into an orgasm, he was even better at the aftercare. 

Clint didn’t know where the knife went or where Bucky had gotten the hot towel or even when the man had pulled off of him. He just knew he found himself in his arms, the towel cleaning up the mess that was made across his chest. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he could hear Bucky whispering in a soft rumble, like thunder across a valley. Of course, he knew he was okay. Bucky was here. He cried while having orgasms, that was normal for him, but Bucky still liked to tell Clint. And fuck, maybe he liked to hear it.

It took him a minute longer to come back to himself, to become aware that he’d been moved. Not just in Bucky’s arms, but to his floor as well. They laid in his bed, both naked and laying on the silk sheets that clung to his skin. He whimpered as he rolled his sore body to plop on top of Bucky’s, face planted into his chest. The hand rubbing at his sensitive scalp made him just want to purr if he had the energy to do so.

“Are you feeling better?” Bucky asked and even without looking up, Clint knew he was smirking at him. “Sorry I moved you, but I wanted to get out of there before Steve came down. You were still out of it, hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Clint’s voice was muffled against his chest, not bothering to pull away. “Only thing I mind is the fact that you’re too damn hot with a fucking weapon in your hand.”


End file.
